1241 Book(s) Related to Let Me Go, Mr Ace De Sylvano

I am Catherine Holloway, CEO of a tech company in Seattle.
It was just an ordinary rainy night. I was driving my Porsche Cayenne toward the airport when a beat-up Ford pickup rear-ended me on the off-ramp.
I never imagined that this seemingly routine accident would drag me into a serial murder case — turning me from a witness into the police's prime suspect.

My husband, Caspian, faked his company’s bankruptcy. We had to sell our luxury cars and our mansion, squeezing into a leaky, moldy basement.
By day, I worked back-to-back shifts in the ER saving lives. By night, I slipped into revealing dresses to sling drinks at a bar, all to shoulder a massive debt that never even existed.
Until I bumped into him in a VIP room. The man who was supposedly drowning in stress was lounging on a sofa with his suit unbuttoned, swirling a glass of whiskey, a secretary in his arms. His mistress leaned in and smirked, telling me Caspian had found me boring for a long time.
She also bragged that while he claimed to be working until 3 AM, he was actually going back to our old house at 10 PM, sleeping in our master bedroom.
Caspian showed zero remorse. Instead, he demanded I roll over and accept the woman, tossing me a meager payoff and threatening to ruin my medical career.
I threw away my wedding ring. I swallowed my tears. I finally saw it all for what it was.
From today on, I am only doing one thing: taking back what belongs to me, piece by piece.

I'm the youngest lead surgeon in our hospital's cardiothoracic department. My fiancé, Adrian Wexford, runs the whole department.

His first love, Bella Hartley, is a mediocre surgeon, but she wants to take over the surgery that should be mine before her promotion review.

In my last life, I fought for it. I told them she didn't have the skill to handle it alone, that it was gambling with a patient's life. I threatened to quit and saved the patient.

But Bella couldn't handle the gossip going around the department. She got depressed and jumped off the hospital roof.

Adrian never said a word about it. He kept treating me the same, picked out wedding rings with me, smiled and told me we'd go on our honeymoon right after the wedding.

I thought he'd let it go.

Then on our wedding day, one glass of wine in, I woke up in a freezing basement, strapped down to an operating table.

He held a scalpel and cut into me, inch by inch, his eyes bloodshot.

"If you hadn't fought so hard for that surgery, Bella wouldn't have jumped. You owe her. Pay with your life."

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the afternoon he first suggested giving Bella the surgery.

This time, I didn't argue. I just smiled. "Sure. Let Bella take the lead on this one."

They have no idea that next Tuesday, the Chief of Surgery is bringing the board and a visiting specialist to observe, unannounced.

We'll see how they explain this one.

News broke that a classmate had fallen from a building. The forensic assessment said it was homicide. Someone claimed they’d seen the killer: a young girl in a red coat.
The police came to our home. My stepsister shoved me forward. Mom said, “My daughter owns a red coat and she wasn’t at home yesterday.”

My fiancé betrayed me and left me at the altar. So I made a deal with the one man he hates most—his uncle, Tyson.

Tyson Wilson is powerful, charming, and dangerously ambitious. He needed a contract bride. I needed a ladder to reach my mother’s dreams.

A contract is all it was supposed to be… until the lines between paper and reality start blurring.

Now my ex-fiancé, Alex, needs me back. But I have bigger problems—lies, corporate wars, hidden agendas, and secrets people are willing to kill for.

And somehow, I’m at the center of it all.
My contract husband keeps pushing my boundaries, testing every rule we set.
But it’s just a contract.

…Right?

I'm an OB-GYN. On Valentine's Day, I pulled a ring out of a woman's vagina.

It turned out to be my husband's wedding ring.

An hour before, he'd texted me. Said he loved me. Said he was too busy with work to come home.

I wanted a divorce. Needed one. But then I found out—our marriage was never registered.

In his manor, I was nothing. Just a fake wife.

He grabbed me by the throat—right in front of his mistress. Called me "damaged goods." Said I'd spent a year in another man's house.

But that year, I went as a hostage in his place.

I ran. Made it to the cliff's edge, covered in blood. And the man who saved me? The mafia godfather who'd held me captive that whole year.

He looked at me. "Marry me."

Fourteen years. I guarded every line on the East Coast for Victoria's crime family. Six weeks. A young newcomer took away every ounce of my authority. Victoria said, "There's no need to be so sensitive." I understood her choice. I took off my ring in the council chamber, and walked away.

Since I was ten, he told me to call him brother. But brothers don't look at you like that.
My life had only Daniel Wilson in it. He was my guardian, my savior, my world.
"Call me brother," he said, but he forbade me from dating anyone else. He kept me in his manor like a bird in a gilded cage. He promised that when I turned twenty-one, the title of "sister" would change to "wife."
I waited. I obeyed. I loved him with a devotion that bordered on obsession.
But on my twenty-first birthday, he brought her home.
"Julie, meet Lena. She's... special to me."
He introduced his childhood crush to me, his "sister," while holding her hand. The way he looked at her was soft, gentle—the way he used to look at me before she arrived.
"You're just a foster sister," he reminded me coldly when I cried. "Don't cross the line."
The line? He blurred the lines for twelve years! He made me dependent on him, made me believe we were destined, only to discard me when the "real" owner of his heart returned.
Fine. If I'm just a sister, then I'll leave.
But why is he chasing me now, begging me to come back, saying he can't sleep without me in the house?
"I'm not your sister anymore, Daniel. And I'm certainly not your wife."

I caught my husband sleeping with my sister, so I burned it all down.
The fire burned fierce, swallowing that abandoned cabin in the woods, along with my shattered marriage.
With the stench of gasoline still lingering on my fingertips, I thought I had finally buried the man who betrayed me.
Until the next morning, when he walked through the front door without a single scratch.
My mind reeled.
If he was still alive... then who the hell did I burn to a crisp last night?

The last thing I did before I died was lick dew off a rusted pipe.
Ninety days earlier, my fiancé Bastien promised he'd come back for me. He said three months in the Sahara would teach me not to be jealous of Posey—the girl I'd pulled from a refugee camp and raised as my own sister.
He didn't know the water ran out in the first week. He didn't know bandits broke my bones. He didn't care enough to find out.
While I lay dying on a rotting bed with a shattered leg, he was in Manhattan, sliding a pink diamond onto Posey's finger.
I died alone. But I didn't stay gone.
My soul followed a stolen necklace across the ocean, right back to his penthouse—just in time for the engagement party, the champagne toast, and the moment my body arrived at the door.

Congratulations, Mrs. Miles, you're pregnant with quadruplets!
Estella Miles, after years of emotional turmoil, is overjoyed to learn she’s expecting two boys and two girls. Married for five years to a renowned billionaire capitalist, Cameron, she rushes home to share the news as the perfect birthday surprise. But her world shatters when Cameron, unmoved by the pregnancy reveal, tears up the test results and serves her divorce papers. In a cruel twist, he replaces her with her twin sister, Riana.
A heated confrontation between the sisters lands Estella unconscious in the hospital where she works. There, she’s saved by a charismatic, sexy doctor—who also happens to be her boss, the billionaire owner of the hospital. As sparks fly, Estella finds herself falling for the man who mends her broken heart.
Meanwhile, Cameron uncovers Riana’s deception—she’s scammed him and fled, leaving him to grapple with the truth about Estella’s pregnancy and his grave mistake. Determined to win her back, he vows, “I must find her.”
Will Estella forgive her ex-husband and rekindle their past, or will she surrender to the passionate connection with her billionaire doctor boss, whose touch ignites undeniable chemistry?

For three years, I was Julian Vance’s perfect shadow.

By day, I was the flawless executive secretary who kept his multi-billion-dollar empire running without a single hitch. By night, I was his secret, contract wife a convenient arrangement kept hidden behind the closed doors of his penthouse to satisfy a dying man's wish. I loved him in the quiet darkness, enduring his coldness, his family’s venom, and the cruel taunts of his elite childhood friend, Victoria.

But three months ago, the illusion shattered. When I was trapped in a hospital room losing our unborn child, Julian was on a red carpet with Victoria. His message to me through his assistant? “Do not interrupt important business meetings with minor domestic emergencies.”

That was the day Vivian Lane died.
The moment our three-year contract expires at midnight, I slide two papers across his mahogany desk: our signed divorce decree and my immediate resignation.

Julian scoffs, arrogant and completely convinced I’ll be crawling back to him within a month when my bank account dries up. He thinks I'm a penniless outcast with nowhere to turn.

He has no idea that while I was playing his submissive secretary, I was quietly building my own foundation. Now, his biggest corporate clients are jumping ship to my new boutique firm, and an international venture capital network has just hired a legendary, anonymous digital strategist known as "The Cipher" to engineer a hostile takeover of Vance Enterprises.

That strategist is me.
As his empire begins to bleed out brick by brick, the billionaire who once looked down on me finally drops to his knees. But I’m no longer his secretary, and I’m no longer his wife. If he wants me back, he’ll have to survive the ruin I’m about to bring to his doorstep.

Twenty-one-year-old Adrian Blood had nothing — no parents, no money, he was just a scholarship and a girlfriend he thought was worth saving for. Valentine's night stripped even that away. Teresa chose his bully. Ricardo's men put him in the garbage, literally.

Then a voice activated in his head.

The Chosen Heir System doesn't do sympathy — it does missions. Its first order: save the sister of the man who just destroyed him. Adrian ran through the rain, bleeding, and did it anyway.

One mission. One million dollars.

Ricardo Rodriguez has no idea what he just created. And the system is only getting started.

In my past life, I built an ironclad sanctuary in the zombie-infested wasteland, bleeding to keep four thousand people alive.
Yet the very people I risked everything to protect were brainwashed into overthrowing me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back—right on the eve of that fatal rebellion.
Right now in the control room, my enemy has his arm around my wife. Fourteen rebels have their assault rifles pressed against my skull, laughing mockingly, convinced they've completely crushed this washed-up "Doomsday Tyrant."
What they don't know is that two days ago, I already emptied the bunker's entire stockpile of weapons and food.
You want "freedom" without rules? It's all yours.

I swear, I hate my husband.

At my birthday party, my husband whispered to his mistress in French that he missed her. His voice was low, but I heard it all—the black lingerie, the bit about how pregnancy makes you more sensitive. His French clients around us were laughing. He turned and put his arm around me, claiming he was just helping his clients come up with sweet nothings.

He doesn't know I understand every single word. Just like he doesn't know that inside my body, I'm carrying his other surprise. And his mistress—she's pregnant too. Two wombs, one secret.

Confrontation would be too cheap. Tears are worthless. I quietly started cataloging the hidden networks my father left behind, activating the Swiss accounts.

In seven days, Zoey Smith will cease to exist. And what will my husband's reaction be?

When I woke up from the car accident, the calendar had jumped to five years later.
who suddenly appeared out of nowhere , was flirting with her lover on the sofa right in front of me, and then threw her credit card in my face: "Useless thing, from today onwards, go earn your own money."
I glanced at my watch and signed the divorce agreement, agreeing to leave with nothing.
Half an hour later, the director of Patek Philippe arrived at my door carrying a royal rare watch and bowed respectfully: "Young Master Stirling, the family welcomes you back."
She froze. I put on my watch and walked out the door without looking back.
Later she realized that when I left with nothing, it wasn't because I had nothing at all, but because I didn't care about what she had.

I bled to death on a cold hospital bed, my unborn child gone, all because I took a shift for my coworker.
Heaven granted me a second chance. I opened my eyes, sitting safely at my office desk. Before I could shake off the nightmare, Vanessa clicked her heels toward me.
"Claire, can you cover for me at the investor party tonight? It’s my anniversary with my boyfriend."
In my past life, I agreed, only to be locked in a private room by monsters and tortured to death. This time, I looked her in the eye. "No."
Vanessa was stunned. Because of my refusal, she missed the crucial meeting and was mercilessly fired by the director.
I thought I had escaped hell and saved her life too. But when I got home to my loving husband, I realized the true nightmare had just begun...

In my past life, we were camping in the wilderness area of a state park when my best friend handed out "lucky charms" to the whole group. Charms she'd secretly packed full of wildlife attractant.

A wild boar knocked me to the ground outside the cabin door. Its tusks tore into my stomach. I pounded on the wood with both fists, screaming. "Help! Open the door!"

Inside were my boyfriend of two years and the best friend I'd been quietly supporting for just as long. Autumn Warren.

"I'm so sorry, Brynn." Autumn's voice broke into sobs, but her weight stayed pressed hard against the door. "There are boars everywhere. We open that door, we're all dead."

"Just hold on! I'm calling 911!" Wyatt Fletcher's voice rang out with the kind of conviction that cost him absolutely nothing.

I paid for that trip. I'd fallen behind because I'd stopped to pull Autumn along.

And they stood on the other side of that door, my blood soaking into the dirt, and locked me out.

I open my eyes. I'm back. It's the day we left.

Every night when my daughter comes home, she looks different.
On the first night, a little of her hair was gone.
On the second night, she was missing one hand.
On the third night, half of her body had vanished.
I jolted awake in a sudden start, thankful it had only been a nightmare.
Right then, my daughter came back home.
A patch of her hair was missing.

Beau and I have been together for three years. I paid for the entire yacht charter out of my own pocket, and he shows up with his childhood best friend Sadie in tow, then goes around telling everyone it was his idea, his grand gesture.

Out on the water, Sadie spots a small octopus drifting near the surface and decides she has to have it. The thing pulses with glowing blue rings.

I'm a certified expert diver. I know exactly what it is the second I see it. I try to stop her.

She bursts into tears and tells Beau I'm going after her.

So Beau, ever the hero where Sadie's concerned, jumps in himself and fishes the thing out.

Sadie plays with it. It bites her. She's on the deck before she even knows what hit her.

Beau grabs me, screaming at me to suck out the venom. I refuse. He calls me a cold, heartless bitch, and in the chaos, shoves me overboard into shark-infested water.

I die out there. Nothing left of me.

They use my phone to fake a suicide note. Depression, they say. Jumped on her own. Then they take my company, my assets, everything.

They post online hinting I tried to push Sadie in and slipped.

My parents, worn down by the online harassment and the grief of losing me, both die of heart attacks.

Then I open my eyes. And I'm back. The morning of the trip.

My husband and I couldn’t get pregnant after we got married, and we really wanted a baby of our own,

We tried IVF, and after three failed rounds I finally got pregnant,

But then my husband and my parents suddenly started pressuring me to get an abortion...

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked finally.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” I replied, not turning around. “Leaving you.” My hand closed around the door handle.

“Not with my child.”


Married off to him to settle a debt that was never mine, I was nothing more than a contract… a means to an end.

An heir.

That was all Adrian Blackwood ever wanted from me.

Not my love. Not my heart. Not me. But still… I gave it to him anyway.

Year after year, I loved a man who never once looked at me the way I looked at him. And when my time was up, when the contract ended and no child tied me to him, I walked away.

Until fate played its cruel joke.

Because just when I finally left him behind, I found out I was carrying his child.

Now the man who never wanted me… refuses to let me go.

Three years of marriage, and she was nothing but his invisible "secretary" — or worse, the woman he accused of drugging him to get a ring on her finger.
It wasn't until Grace watched Alfred stroll out of the VIP terminal with his ex on his arm that she finally understood. This marriage had only ever been real to one of them.
She signed the divorce papers without a scene. Quietly resigned. And moved on.
That's when he lost control.
"Grace, who gave you the right to just leave?"
"Is this about another man? You're divorcing me for him?"
Then came the night he stood in the rain, eyes red, blocking her path.
"I was wrong. Can we go home?"
She looked at him and said simply, "Mr. White, we're already divorced."

It had only been seventeen minutes since my wife passed away. My daughter was sobbing on the phone.

"Dad, they're trying to drive me out."

I stared at the medical report in the doctor's hand.

The first natural antibody carrier.Toxin levels in the blood: zero.

The same poison that killed my wife, that killed my six-year-old son…had left me completely unharmed.

The doctor lowered his voice."Mr. Miller, you have to stay. They're sending people to pick you up."

I let out a cold laugh.

"My daughter is trapped in the basement storage room right now. Is anyone here going to help her?"

Silence fell over everyone.

I grabbed the glass water cup from the bedside table.

"Five years ago, they handed me a disciplinary penalty and fired me from the rescue team. Everyone said I was good for nothing."

The cup smashed against the floor.

I picked up the longest shard of broken glass.

"Today, I'll show you all how a useless man saves lives."

Four years. Ninety-nine times on the altar, and the Alpha I was going to mate held the door for every one of them.
I heal from anything. That is the only reason they picked me.
The Moon Goddess promised that the hundredth offering would buy back the night somebody stole from me. The night Cassian knows it was me who dug him out of that mine, and looks at me the way he used to.
Not this one. In this one I am what his priestess practises on.
So I never refused. Not once, not through any of the fevers.
Tonight is the hundredth. The drug hasn't taken, and the two of them are talking on the other side of the door.
"It'll hold. We built that voice out of her own memories."
"The heart tonight, not an eye. When she wakes, don't let anything slip."
There is no Moon Goddess. There never was.
And he doesn't know my healing was never mine. Something else lives in my chest, and it stays there because my heart does.
Take it out and I don't wake up.

When my younger brother got into a top university, the whole family celebrated for him.
I, suffering from a terminal illness, clutched my chest and desperately cried for help, only to be met with a disgusted slap from my mother and the words, "You just can't stand to see your brother doing well!"
She thought I was a spoilsport, so she roughly dragged me back to the room and locked the door from the outside.
She didn't know that those were the last words I ever heard in my life.
The next morning, she opened the door with breakfast in hand, only to find my corpse.

"Come see our wedding invitations!" I excitedly held up the document folder I'd grabbed from ,my fiancé, Lorenzo's study, showing it off to his men in his private safe house on the Upper East Side.

Lorenzo and I had been running ourselves ragged this month preparing for the wedding.

Lorenzo's guys raised their glasses, waiting to see our custom-designed invitations. I eagerly turned the folder upside down—

Marriage certificates, wedding photos, and a property transfer document came tumbling out onto the floor.

Dead silence.

"Oh, these aren't our invitations..." I was still grinning foolishly. "Must be the wrong folder."

"Let me see which lucky lady is about to become a happy bride."

I looked down at the wedding photo. A beautiful brunette woman in an elaborate white gown smiled from the center of the picture, looking so blissful, so content.

When my eyes shifted to the groom beside her, my world collapsed.

It was Lorenzo. He wore a perfect black tuxedo, but he was tenderly embracing a woman I'd never seen before.

I spent five years letting men degrade me at a club, all to save $300,000 for my blind brother Joren's eye surgery.
The day I finally raised the money, I excitedly told him he would be able to see again—only to discover he was never blind to begin with.
My husband’s "bankrupt" company had been thriving all along. My parents, who supposedly died in a plane crash, had been living luxuriously abroad.
My husband even took my "stillborn" daughter and gave her to my adopted sister.
My entire family conned me for five years to "teach me a lesson"—all because my adopted sister claimed I bullied her.
Now, they are forcing me to donate my liver to the woman who stole my life, threatening that I'll never see my biological daughter again if I refuse.
But what they don't know is that I have terminal liver cancer, and I only have two days left to live...

After ten years of marriage, my fated mate, Alpha Harvey, had slept with nearly every female worker in the Silver Claw Packhouse.
When I was seven months pregnant, his newly kept mistress, Yvonne Robson, offended the Alpha of the Eclipse Pack at a celebration banquet. Badly.
"Jasmine, you, kneel and apologize on her behalf."
The entire banquet hall fell silent.
I blinked at him, sure I had misheard. "Excuse me?"
"She's young," he said impatiently, as if this were a minor inconvenience. "She made a mistake. You're the Luna. You need to fix it."
I placed a hand over my swollen belly, my wolf snarling inside me. "I'm pregnant, Harvey. How can I kneel? What if it hurts the pup—"
He cut me off harshly. 'It's just kneeling. You've never acted so delicate before.'
He dragged me forcefully to Alpha Kenneth.
Then, before I could react, Alpha Harvey shoved me down, forcing my head toward the ground.
Pain shot through my knees as they hit the floor.
And then—a sharp, wet sensation beneath me.
M

As I sat in the police station with Yvonne Harper, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart, waiting for bail arrangements to be made, the decision loomed.
One of us could go home tonight.
My mate, Alpha Jackson, chose to take her.
"Nicole, just wait for me one more night. I’ll come back for you tomorrow," he said.
He was worried about her fragile health, but he didn’t care about my fear of the dark.
Later, I called him. My voice was steady, though my heart ached.
"Jackson," I began, "for the past few years, I’ve been waiting for you."
"But I won’t wait forever."

She was supposed to walk down the aisle in white.

Instead, Sophia Hart was left standing alone in front of three hundred guests while her groom, billionaire Alexander Blackwood, announced he was leaving her for her best friend.

Humiliated, heartbroken, and burning with rage, Sophia vanished that night with five million dollars mysteriously wired into her account and a single note: This is your freedom. Use it.

For three years, she disappeared into Paris, remade into the cool, untouchable Elise Moreau under the ruthless guidance of a mentor who knew Alexander’s cruelty all too well. She learned power, seduction, and how to ruin a man without ever raising her voice.

Now she’s back in New York, a stranger to the world that once watched her fall. No one recognizes the poised Frenchwoman who walks into the room and turns every head.

Especially not Alexander.

Old sparks still burn between them, hotter and darker than before. Stolen glances across crowded ballrooms.

A brush of fingers that lingers too long. Late-night encounters in empty offices where walls echo with heavy breaths and whispered names.

He wants her.

She lets him think he can have her.

But every touch, every kiss, every fevered moment against cool glass or silk sheets is on her terms and every second brings him closer to losing everything he thought was his.

But revenge isn’t cold. It’s hot, slow, and very, very personal.

This time, she’s not the bride he left.
She’s the woman who’ll bring him to his knees.

"Ssshh. You made me cum twice already. I’m not leaving you untouched. I want to taste you, suck you, feel every inch of you deep inside me.”

“Fuck,” Valtor growled, a deep velvety rumble that sent a pulse of heat throbbing through my wet pussy. “Who the hell taught you to talk like that?”

No one. I never dirty-talked with Kallias. These words came purely after the fire Valtor ignited in me.


I was the happiest woman alive until my husband and my maid betrayed me in one night.

Now I am no longer the good Luna they once expected me to be, but a wounded woman burning with vengeance. I am willing to give anything, do anything, even if it means striking a dangerous bargain with Valtor North, the handsome Rogue King whose reputation makes every Alpha tremble in fear.

But fate made its twist again. An unexpected mad attraction rose between me and the man I should hate, the sworn enemy of my kind. The Rogue King.

Torn between duty and desire, I face the ultimate battle. Can I survive the storm or will it consume me whole?

"Everyone in Cedar Hollow can tell you exactly what I did. I just can't."

Twelve years ago, Vanessa Dalton walked out of Larkspur Quarry alone, covered in her best friend Jo Calloway's blood. Jo's body was never found. Vanessa never remembered what happened. The evidence disappeared with the storm, but the town reached its own verdict long ago: she was guilty.

Now a renowned forensic genealogist who solves decades-old cold cases using DNA, Vanessa is forced to return home when her dying mother leaves her no choice. She's spent years helping strangers uncover the truth, while refusing to investigate the one mystery that destroyed her own life.

Sheriff Scott Bradley wants her gone. His father ruined his career trying to prove Vanessa murdered Jo, and Scott inherited both the badge and the hatred. But when someone steals a hidden box of evidence from the Calloway case, and Vanessa begins remembering fragments that contradict everything Cedar Hollow believes, a second car at the quarry, another voice calling her name, and Jo alive long after the moment she was supposed to have died, they're forced into an uneasy alliance.

As Vanessa and Scott reopen the town's darkest secret, every new clue exposes another lie. Someone has spent twelve years protecting the truth, and they'll kill to keep it buried.

Because Jo Calloway wasn't the only person who disappeared that night.

I gave up MIT for them in my last life.
They paid me back by stealing my lab notes, framing me for misconduct, and choosing her over me when I drowned.
I watched them choose her over me a hundred times
Now I’m 17 again. I block all three and fly to MIT.
They think I’m throwing a tantrum.
Wait till they find out who saved them out of that cave—

After being lost for ten years, I was finally brought home by my biological parents.
They stood in the cramped basement and asked me, "The family went bankrupt a month ago. You won't hold it against us for being poor, will you?"
Overcome with emotion, I hugged them tightly and shook my head fervently.
Later, my father was diagnosed with uremia and needed a large sum of money for surgery. To earn money, I worked three jobs a day, eventually collapsing from exhaustion and being diagnosed with a brain tumor. With no time for treatment, I rushed to deliver food orders.
Unexpectedly, I ran into my father—who should have been in the hospital undergoing dialysis—having booked an entire shopping mall to celebrate the adopted daughter's birthday. My mother, wearing an gorgeous gown I'd never seen before, smiled as she embraced the girl.
"Lily, our precious, Mommy and Daddy will give you everything you want."
My brother, who they said had died in an accident while searching for me, was dotingly putting a diamond necklace on the girl.
It turned out the family hadn't gone bankrupt at all—I just wasn't worthy.

For six years, I was her driver, her errand boy, and her servant.
On the night of her engagement, she said, "He's just my driver."
Her fiancé ruined my company.
I sold my shares, changed my phone number, and bought a one-way ticket.
She chased me to the airport and asked me why.
I said, "Because I don't want to,"
"Waiting for someone who will never look back at me."

My biggest regret? Trusting my husband with my mother's life.

The day the mudslide hit, I was on my knees. Begging him to send a helicopter.

He told me to wait. Twenty minutes. But when the helicopter came, it went for his adoptive sister Vivian instead.

I held my mother in the ruins. Her body was shutting down. I waited. Waited until she went cold in my arms.

When he finally showed up at the hospital, the first thing he said? Accused me of faking it. Said I just wanted attention.

In that moment, my heart died too.

Later, I found out Vivian wasn't even sick.

She said "I don't feel well"—that's all it took. And he left my mother and me to die.

Called me a lunatic. In front of everyone. All for her.

I was ready to leave. For good. Then someone shattered my mother's ashes.

In my last life, I fell for every word out of Ryan's mouth.
To save his shot at attending physician, I volunteered to take the fall for his medical malpractice case.
My license was revoked. I went from being a surgeon to being a housewife trapped in his family's home, wasting ten years of my life chained to a kitchen stove.
I thought my sacrifice would earn me his gratitude for the rest of our lives.
Turns out, he'd been sleeping with that doe-eyed little nurse, Lily, for God knows how long.
When years of exhaustion finally caught up with me and my heart gave out, I collapsed on the freezing basement floor.
My husband Ryan was upstairs, arms wrapped around Lily, sleeping in the master bedroom we'd bought with my dowry.
"That bitch is finally kicking the bucket. Once she croaks, this house is ours."